


Our Bodies Are Possessed By The Light Within Them

by sassyclassy_ass



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bad Decisions, Being Soulmates Doesn't Make Things Easier, Coming of Age, Cousin Incest, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Half-Sibling Incest, Infidelity, Joffrey Is An Awful Husband, Jonsaexchange, Just Know That Sansa And Jon Care About Each Other A Lot, Ned Never Discovers Twincest, Queen Sansa, R plus L equals J, Running Away, Sansa Starts Off As Seven In This, Sexual Content, So The Romance And Love Will Take A While, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Technically Family To Lovers, eventually, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyclassy_ass/pseuds/sassyclassy_ass
Summary: Sansa had only ever dreamed of being like some great lady from the songs and of glory, but the world was unkind to little girls with songs in their heads.Or the one where half-siblings Jon and Sansa have the same mark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [darks1st3r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darks1st3r/gifts).



She twisted to see her mark again, trying to catch sight of it. She could feel the weight of Jeyne’s eyes on her. She turned her head and twisted her body, finally catching sight of the mark again.  A sword of fire surrounded by blue Winter Roses. She didn’t care much for the sword but the flowers were beautiful, all of them delicately crafted and so beautifully drawn that they almost appeared to be real.

“You’re so lucky,” Jeyne moaned, tearing her out of her musings and thoughts. She tried to appear more sombre. Septa Mordane had told her that she should act like a lady and treat the Mark with absolute gravity and seriousness. She knew it was improper to feel so special and smug and unladylike but she couldn’t help it. It was too exciting. She had been chosen by the Gods and was destined for some great and song-worthy love. She would be like her mother and her husband would be some great and kind knight who fought against dragons or rescued her from some evil and cruel king. Jeyne was right. She was lucky but she could not exactly say that. Jeyne was her dearest and closest friend, a sister in all but name. It would be awful and cruel to agree with her, even in her mind.

“I’m not all that lucky. The Gods have given me a hard and serious duty and I’ll never meet my soulmate anyway so I’m not all that lucky,” she lied, repeating the words of the Septa. The Septa had told her that most people never once met their soulmates or got remembered for their stories of love but she did not believe her for a moment. It would be different for her. She _knew_ that she would meet him. Even now she could just imagine his face when he saw her. He would have hair that was like gold or perhaps, hair that was like silver. She didn’t quite know, his hair colour tended to change every time she imagined meeting him but she knew his face. His face was always beautiful and he always stared at her as if she were the sun itself.

“You’re just saying that,” Jeyne said, interrupting her thoughts and sounding much happier than before. She frantically shook her head and stared at Jeyne with wide eyes.

“No, I’m not. You’re the lucky one. My soulmate could be anyone! An old man or a pig farmer.” She shuddered at her words. She didn’t think the gods were cruel enough to ever doing something like that. She had never done anything bad, not truly, not like Arya but she still felt worried and nervous at the thought. Jeyne’s countenance was much improved and she even smiled a little.

“Your soulmate won’t be anyone awful or bad! He’ll be a prince or a knight!” She had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop the squeals. _Ladies did not squeal. They were calm and collected,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Septa Mordane’s snapped.

There was a sudden knock at the door and she and Jeyne froze and stared at each other, suddenly nervous and fearful. If it was Septa Mordane or her mother, then they would both be in trouble. She had been forbidden from showing her mark to people as it was rude and unseemly. She hadn’t been able to stop herself. Jeyne had begged to see and she had wanted to see the mark again so badly.

“Who is?” She asked hesitantly, frantically trying to lace up and pull her dress up, Jeyne behind her helping too.

“It’s Arya,” the tiny voice of her little sister cried out. Both her and Jeyne groaned loudly but stopped what they were doing and relaxed. It was just Arya. They wouldn’t get in any trouble.

“What do you want?” She asked, Jeyne rolled her eyes but kept thankfully silent. If Arya heard that Jeyne was here, she knew that she would shout and make noise and bring the whole castle to her door.

“I want to see your mark!” Arya shouted back. She narrowed her eyes. Arya had never cared much for soulmarks or love and being ladylike, she didn’t know why she would start caring now.

"Well, you can't!" She snapped, praying that Arya would go away now. She heard a loud stomp behind her door and rolled her eyes.

“Why not?” Arya asked. “I won’t do anything. I just want to see it!” She felt a pinch of guilt at her sister’s pleading. Arya was only little and didn’t mean to be a terror and annoying. Perhaps, this would make Arya more ladylike. She couldn’t think a proper reason to deny her. The Septa had only told her not too but she didn’t see what was so wrong with it. It wasn’t like she was letting anyone _touch_ it. Jeyne saw her face and frantically shook her head. _No,_ she mouthed to her, _she’ll tell everyone and we’ll get in trouble._ She paused at that, Jeyne was right. Arya had an awful habit of just blurting out everything. She would get into trouble if anyone ever found out that she was showing people her mark. That did not stop the guilt, though. It did not seem fair that she was showing Jeyne and not Arya.

“Another time. I’m feeling tired,” she said, gentling her voice.

“Tired? But you don’t _do_ anything!” Jeyne stomped her foot and glared at the door. She tried shaking her head and stopping Jeyne but it was too late.

“Go away Horseface!” Jeyne shrieked, sounding just as unladylike as Arya.

“You’re not tired you liar! Stupid Jeyne is in there with you!” Arya shouted back, her voice small and angry. She could tear her hair out at the sounds of their shrieks. The knob of the door twisted and the door was pushed open. She hurriedly tried to cover herself and do up her laces, silently cursing herself for not locking the door.

“Arya! No!” But it was too late, Arya darted into the room, scowling, small and angry, her hair wild and messy. She gaped at her sister who’s scowl only got deeper.

“You’re a liar! You said that you weren’t allowed to show anyone!” Jeyne hurriedly rushed to the door and closed and locked it.

“Arya, keep your voice down. I’m not allowed to show anyone,” she told her half-exasperated.

“Then why were you showing stupid Jeyne?” Jeyne bristled at the question but she sighed in relief. Arya had lowered her voice.

“Because I’m her best friend!”

“Well I’m her sister and that beats friend stupid.” Jeyne flushed red and she rolled her eyes.

“Arya, don’t call Jeyne stupid,” she lightly scolded, feeling tired. Arya’s little face only got angrier and more red at that.

“You didn’t tell stupid Jeyne to not call me names!” Jeyne looked awfully smug as Arya exploded. She winced at the sound, feeling guilty again. Arya was right. It was highly inappropriate to let Jeyne call Arya names. It had all been done in jest but it wasn’t fair either.

“I’m sorry Arya. Jeyne stop calling her names.” Jeyne silently gaped at her but Arya looked pacified and pleased. “Do you want to see my mark?” Jeyne scowled to the ground and shuffled to a chair in the corner but Arya nodded and came closer to her. “You can’t tell anyone at all.” Arya nodded quickly.

“I won’t. Now let me see.” She unlaced the dress again and shrugged it down to her waist. She then turned her back on Arya so she could see it.  She felt a moment of excitement. It was nice that Arya was showing so much interest in something that mattered to her. As much as Arya annoyed her, she liked it when they were like this and acted the way that sisters were supposed to be like.

Arya was silent for the longest of moments. She could feel her heavy gaze on her back. She was unbothered. Jeyne had been the same when she saw it too and she had felt like that. When she had seen the mark for the first time she had fallen into silence and tears had sprung to her eyes. She had wept with joy and been filled with awe. Silence was to be expected.

“No.” She jerked away at Arya. _What?_ “No!” Arya shouted sounding so angry and horrified. Her mouth went dry at Arya's words and her insides painful and hollow. Arya hadn't wanted to share a moment and be happy for her. She had only wanted to ruin another thing. She should have known that her sister would do something awful like this. That didn't stop the hurt, though.

“What do you mean no?” She snapped, feeling anger growing and stretching underneath her skin. She pulled her dress up and turned to face her sister. Arya looks angry and horrified. She looks like she might cry and she wishes that she had never turned to face Arya or showed her anything. She wishes that she never had a stupid and awful sister.

“You can’t have _that_ mark!” She stares at Arya, unable to say anything. _She’s jealous of me. She’s jealous that I have the mark,_ she thinks to herself suddenly. The thought does not make her feel better. Sisters shouldn’t be jealous of each other or at least they should never show it.

“I don’t see why you care so much!” Jeyne says hotly, glowering at tiny Arya. “Are you upset because a soulmark is the only way someone would ever want to marry you and your stupid Horseface?” Jeyne stomps towards Arya but Arya doesn’t flinch. She glares straight back, shaking from barely unrestrained rage. Her tiny fists clenched in her anger.

“I don’t care about the stupid soulmarks! Sansa can have any stupid and dumb mark that she wants but not that one!” She explodes at that point, embarrassed by herself, embarrassed that she ever thought that Arya could ever be good and kind and sisterly

“You’re an awful, awful person Arya! Why couldn’t you just be happy and stop acting like a little monster? Jeyne’s right, you are jealous!”

“I’m not jealous!” Arya bellowed. She sneered at her.

“Yes, you are! No one else will ever want you because you’re stupid and ugly and awful. The person most perfect for you is Hodor!” She screamed at her.  Arya pushed her and she fell to the ground not expecting the attack.

"Well, your soulmate will never want you and never has!" Arya's voice was teary but hot and she darted to the door, unlocking it and then slamming it shut. She flinched at the sound of it and Jeyne helped to pull her up. She wiped her face but pulled her hand back in surprise. Her hand was wet, she was crying.

“Arya is jealous of you,” Jeyne told her in a rushed voice. She nodded half-distracted. Arya’s words rung in her ears. _Well, your soulmate will never want you and never has_ _._ How would Arya know what her soulmate felt for her? Why would she even care? She tried to shake herself from her questions and thoughts and instead focus on dressing herself but the questions were constant and ceaseless in their attacks. What had Arya meant? Did she know who her soulmate was? The thought seemed ridiculous. Arya was only five, the only people that she truly knew was their brothers. She was friends with the servants but no one close enough to garner that reaction.

“Sansa?” She starts, turning towards Jeyne whose expression is sympathetic and kind. Tears well up in her eyes. Why couldn’t _Jeyne_ be her sister instead? It wasn’t fair. “Let’s go get some lemon cakes.” She nodded, to miserable and upset to say anything.

 She and Jeyne sneak into the kitchen. The cook usually shoos them away but today is the day of the feast in celebration of her mark and she guesses the cook must be feeling in good mood. Jeyne snatches three for her alone and shoots her smile. She smiles back gratefully and nibbles on her favourite treat. The sweetness of the cake spreads in her mouth and she relaxes. Jeyne always know what to do. She can’t think of anything better than eating lemon cakes with Jeyne.

“I don’t know why she would do something like that?” She says finally. Jeyne shrugs at her.

“Who knows why Arya does most of the things that she does,” Jeyne sighs and she has to agree. She can’t for the life of her understand why Arya would want to go out and play in the mud or eat worms or watch the boys play at swords. She sighs angrily and shakes Arya out of her head. If Arya wants to do that and act and be stupid, then she can. It wasn’t her problem. She had more important things to do then to worry about the words of a five-year-old.

They spend longer than planned hiding away in the kitchen. Jeyne sneaks her another cake and giggles about Theon and how mature and handsome he is. She wrinkles her nose. She can’t truly see it. Theon is loud and dirty and annoying. All the boys at Winterfell are. She gets a sudden fear that her soulmate will be as gross and awful as Theon or Robb but shakes her head. No, knights can’t be gross. They have to be clean and handsome and kind and they never pick their noses or try or try and see who can spit the furthest or give their sisters wet willies. She was certain of this. _He wouldn’t be a very good knight or chivalrous if he did things like that,_ she told herself. No, it was only Theon and her brothers that were gross.

Jeyne was talking but froze and stared at something behind her. She turned to face whoever it was, suddenly nervous but froze just like Jeyne did. Septa Mordane swept into the kitchen. Jeyne tugged at the sleeve of her dress and dragged her down.

“Hide,” she hissed and she quickly hid beneath the table. A small voice told her it was childish to be hiding under tables but there were crumbs covering her face and she didn’t want to get in trouble. If her Lady Mother ever found out that she had snuck into the kitchen and was eating the lemon cakes again. She dreaded the consequences. She could see the Septa coming closer to their hiding place and from the corner of her eye and saw Jeyne’s foot poking out from underneath. She whacked Jeyne’s arm to get her attention. Jeyne turned towards her, scowling and she pointed to her leg that was poking out. Jeyne scooted closer and hid her leg but it was too late, Septa Mordan’es eyes zoomed towards Jeyne’s foot and then met her eyes. Her stare was disappointed and stern. She shrunk back, not used to Septa Mordane’s harsh stares.

“Sansa, Jeyne, get out from underneath the table right now!” She and Jeyne scrambled from under the table and to their feet. She tried to look up and stand straight but one look at Septa’s Mordane’s angry face sent her gaze right back down to her feet.

“Sorry Septa Mordane,” she said quickly. Jeyne mumbled the apology right alongside her.

“You were both raised as ladies. You should be ashamed of yourself hiding under tables and acting like gluttons. Especially you Sansa. The gods did not bless you only for you to throw it all away for greed and hunger. Look at all these crumbs all over you” Her cheeks burned from embarrassment and shame and she hastily tried to wipe the crumbs off her face but they clung to her finger and made an even greater mess.

“We’re sorry,” she repeated, tears pricking at her eyes from the rebuke. The Septa sighed. She quickly glanced up, Septa Mordane still looked unimpressed and stern but the lines of anger had softened.

“You will clean yourself up and then you will promptly find and stay with me until the feast.” She nodded frantically and quickly rushed out, Jeyne followed close behind her.

Jeyne was unusually silent as they walked back to her room. _Good,_ she thought to herself. She wouldn’t have gotten into trouble if it were not for Jeyne. She should have known that it would go badly. Her mother had forbidden her from going anywhere near the kitchen and Jeyne was awful at hiding, the worst combination ever.

She heard a small giggle and turned sharply towards Jeyne, giving her an annoyed look but her glare only made Jeyne laugh all the harder. She stared at her mortified. _She’s as bad as Arya,_ she thought to herself aghast.

“Stop laughing,” she told her sharply but Jeyne doubled over and laughed all the harder. “Jeyne! We’re in trouble. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Jeyne’s laughter subsided into little sniggers but she stared at her unimpressed and disapproving.

“You should have seen her face,” Jeyne said finally, her voice breathless from laughter. She glowered at the other girl but Jeyne’s laughter was infectious and she soon joined in the laughter.

“You’re awful. We shouldn’t be laughing,” she wheezed out. Jeyne only smirked in response.

“Oh, don’t be like that Sansa. It was funny,” Jeyne giggled, lacing her arm through hers. Her former annoyance melted away and she grinned. Jeyne truly was the best friend that anyone could ever ask for. Already she felt better despite Arya and the world doing everything it could to ruin today. She pledged that she would not allow anything else to ruin today. Today they would be formally celebrating and announcing her soulmark, something so rare that one had not appeared since Queen Naerys and her Dragon Knight.  The other stories of soulmarks had been just as beautiful if not awfully sad. But she didn’t care anymore. She was done with other people’s stories and songs. Today she would start her own.

“Come one, Septa Mordane is waiting for us,” she said laughing, tugging the other girl to her room. Jeyne sighed loudly but quickened her pace. They quickly cleaned themselves up and made their way to the Sept. Septa Mordane was standing there looking rather disgruntled and impatient.

“I told you to be quick,” the Septa snapped. She and Jeyne shared a nervous glance before shuffling in after her. Septa Mordane made her way towards the statue of the Maiden and kneeled before her. She hastily kneeled beside Septa Mordane, Jeyne kneeling next to her.

“Have you given your thanks to the gods child?” She nodded. Her father had taken her to the weirwood to give thanks. She had yet to give her thanks to the Seven but she had been planning to after the feast.

“I thanked the Old Gods.” Septa Mordane wrinkled her nose but said nothing else.

She bowed her head, trying to pray but it was hard to focus on anything else. Her mind was buzzing with excitement and happiness. Every time she tried to recite the words of her prayers, she stumbled. She kept on thinking about her prince or knight. He would be daring and bold and strong and kind and beautiful. She just knew it.

She fell into another dream, one about her soulmate crowning her as his Queen of Love and Beauty. He would win every round and then gently place the crown of flowers on her head, declaring her as his love. He would then kiss her hand and tell her that even the sun and moon paled before her. She sighed from the beauty of it.

“Sansa.” She jerked up, torn away from her dreams and fantasy. She turned only to see Septa Mordane’s disapproving stare. She flushed under her hard gaze. What was wrong with her today? She kept on getting herself into trouble.

“Yes, Septa Mordane?” She asked timidly, staring at anything other than the Septa’s face. Septa Mordane sighed loudly.

"Pray, child, don't you know? The gods give and they take away. Just because you have this mark doesn't mean you can forget yourself," the Septa gently chided. She nodded, frowning. She couldn't imagine the gods taking away something like this. Yes, she hadn't been as focused as she should be but surely, they would understand her situation? Septa Mordane was a woman of the gods though and knew more than her so she nodded.

“Yes Septa Mordane,” she said politely and went back to her prayers. This time focusing on reciting and saying the words. _Gods, thank you for this blessing but please let me meet my soulmate. I know it’s rare to have a mark and that should be enough but please._ They knelt at the feet of each of the Seven for hours. From the maiden, she asked for love. From the mother, she asked for many children. From the Father, she asked for good judgement and to show her the way. From the Warrior, she asked for his strength to be on the side of her future husband.

“Sansa.” She awoke from her prayers and turned towards the Septa again.

"Yes?" She asked. Septa Mordane looked at her with misty eyes.

"The gods have blessed you with a great gift Sansa. Remember that always. There has not been a soulmark for over two-hundred years and the marks are rare. The gods have a great destiny for you, my child.” She smiled, puffing up at her words. Her chest filled with warmth at the words. She was _chosen_.

"Thank you Septa Mordane," she said, trying her best to not let her excitement show. The Septa nodded and turned away from her.

“You best go and get ready for the feast. Your mother will be expecting you.” She and Jeyne shared a smile, excitement bubbling under their skin. Finally, it was time for the feast. She pushed herself up from her position, her knees creaking and aching from being on her knees for too long. Septa Mordane pushed herself up as well and led them to the door. “Go and get ready now. I will see you at the feast." She and Jeyne fell into a curtsey. The Septa nodded in approval and shooed them both out. They hurried to her room but her mother was there.

“Mother!” She cried out, delighted. Her mother smiled gently, her hand smoothing over her stomach. She opened her arms and pulled her in for an awkward side hug. Her mother’s bump pressed against her side and she smoothed a hand over it, searching for her newest brother or sister. _I’ll look after you,_ she promised her newest sibling. She was certain that she would love her newest sister or brother more than anything.

“My darling girl,” her mother said, embracing her tightly.

“I’ll see you at the feast Sansa.” She turned to wave goodbye to her best friend but Jeyne had already left.

“Come now. Let’s get you ready for tonight.” She grinned at the prospect and took her mother’s hand. Allowing her to lead her towards her room.

 

 

She stared nervously at the doors. She had been looking forward to this feast for weeks but now that she was here. She couldn’t feel anything but nerves. Little Bran fidgeted next to her and Arya stared sullenly ahead. She ignored her sister. Every time that she looked at her she felt anger. Bran tugged at her sleeve.

“What?” She snapped.

“Sansa, Sansa, I need to pee,” he whispered loudly. Robb snickered and her mother shot a look at Bran.

“Not now Bran. Leave your sister be,” her mother said sounding tired.

“But I need to pee,” he whined loudly. She gritted her teeth. She was already on the edge from nerves and Bran was only making it worse.

“I’ll take him!” Arya piped up. She snorted loudly. It would not end well if they ever allowed Arya near a baby. Arya glared at her but she turned her back on her sister.

“Arya, you’re too young yourself,” her mother sighed.

“But I need to pee too,” she moaned. “Please, I’ll be quick!” Their mother studied Arya and her sister fidgeted under the scrutiny.

“Fine but you will go with someone.” Arya scowled at her feet but nodded. Her mother turned to a passing servant and asked. Bran let go of her sleeve and took the hand of the servant. Arya stomped after them and glowered, sending one last glare her way as if it were all her fault. She rolled her eyes. Perhaps, if Arya hadn’t drunk so much she wouldn’t be in this situation. She pushed all thoughts of Arya out of mind. She wouldn’t let her ruin today for her.

The doors were pushed open and her mother walked forward, followed by Robb, Theon and then herself. Her father was already seated, alongside all the other Northeners. As soon as they saw her, they rose, shouting and roaring with happiness. The noise struck her but she buzzed with pride. They hadn’t done that for Robb who was to be the Lord one day. It was her, her name and future that they were cheering for. Her father stood smiling that smile he only ever gave her. Warmth spread through her body at the sight of him. He looked so proud of her at that moment. Her mother walked closer and took the hand that her father gave to her. She couldn’t hear what her mother was saying but from the look on both of their faces it was something wonderful and romantic. She sighed dreamily, excited to one day have that with her husband and soulmate. Her father turned to face the front and held up a hand. All the other Lords fell into a silence, all waiting for her father to speak. She sidled up close to her mother while Robb scampered over to where a group of boys were.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the blessing that the gods have given us. Sansa Stark of Winterfell, my eldest child has been blessed with the mark.” Gasps and sighs overtook the hall despite them all knowing about her mark. They’re eyes swivelled and focused on her. She swelled up at the sudden attention. “I ask you all now to break bread with us and celebrate what the gods have done.” Her father finally finished, the hall shook with the Lords cheers and shouts.

“Sansa the Blessed!” The shouts of that were mixed within the other shouts. Shouts about her family and blessings and just general cheers. Her face hurt from how much she was smiling but she couldn’t stop herself. She was too happy. Servers came in and carried in the food. More food than she had ever seen in her life. Great joints of auroch roasted with in apple sauce, stews brimming with onions, leaks and beef, pies still steaming, huge legs of chicken and duck, a whole pig, soups, fish soaked from the juices of bacon and more. She could barely stand to have a mouthful of each course. And anyhow, she was saving herself for her beloved lemon cakes. She nibbled on one of the treats and looked up.

She spotted her half-brother Jon Snow sitting at a table full of servants looking miserable and upset. Guilt pooled in her stomach at the sight of him looking so sad. Jon was baseborn but he was kinder than both Robb and Theon and he always gave her his lemon cakes. It didn’t seem fair that he had to sit with the servants. It wasn’t even his fault that he was baseborn. Jon hadn’t asked for it? She pushed her guilt down. His presence shamed and hurt her Lady Mother. She couldn’t feel bad for him on today of all days. It wasn’t fair to her mother and today was her day. Still, she promised that she would do her extra best to be kinder to him. Jon looked up and caught her gaze. She flushed at being caught but gave him a hesitant and small smile.

“Sansa, who are you smiling at?” Her mother asked. She quickly turned away and looked down at her plate.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. She peeked up at her mother but her mother was no longer staring at her. Her face was dark and harsh. She followed her line of direction only to find her mother glaring at Jon. His shoulders were hunched and his head bowed, looking anywhere but at the two of them. Something inside her twisted painfully at the sight of Jon.

“Mother?” She tugged on her mother’s sleeve, wakening her from whatever dark rage had taken over her. Her mother shook her head and turned towards her.

"Yes, Sansa?" She racked her brain for something to say. She had only wanted to distract her Lady Mother but now her attention was her she was lost for words.

“Could I have another lemon cake please?” She asked politely. Her mother laughed and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. Her large and pregnant belly pressed against her.

“The Septa told me that you had already eaten a lot before in the kitchen.” She flushed at the reminder and hid her face.

“I can’t help it. They’re too delicious,” she moaned. Her mother laughed and she looked up only to see her mother’s amused face.

"You'll have to learn or else you might turn into a lemon." She frowned. This sounded like one of Old Nans tales but her mother was not one lie. She hastily pushed her plate of lemon cakes away. It was better to be careful than sorry. She didn't want to turn into a lemon cake. What would her future husband say?  She shivered at the thought. If she became a lemon, someone might eat her!

“No! Please don’t let me turn into a lemon!” She pleaded. The corner of her mother’s lip twitched but her face turned solemn and serious.

“I promise that I will never allow anyone to turn you into a lemon,” her mother promised seriously and she relaxed, relief coursing through her body. “But you have to do something for me.” She nodded hastily.

“Anything,” she said quickly, desperate to avoid the fate of becoming her favourite fruit.

“Stop eating so many lemon cakes.” She froze and frowned. She didn’t want to ever become a lemon but a life without lemon cakes seemed impossible and sad. She mulled over her decision, uncertain of what to say. She nodded slowly. It was better if she just ate less or no lemon cakes. She had never heard any songs where Ladies had been lemons, but, then again, she had never heard any stories of _anyone_ turning into a lemon cake.  It was better to be safe than sorry she told herself.

Her mother kissed her forehead again before turning to talk to her father. She turned to look at the table full of servants but Jon was gone.

She sighed and turned away. It was better that he was gone. It was improper to have her half-brother as part of the celebrations but that did not stop the swell of disappointment. She decided to focus on the dancing. She stared jealously at all the dancers. She would usually drag Jeyne to the dancing but Septa Mordane had told her that she was a lady now and was to be on her best behaviour. She sighed deeply, she could not wait till she was old enough to dance with her husband and soulmate. He would twirl and spin her around and she would be dressed in some beautiful gown. She closed her eyes and swayed, taken by the beautiful daydream. She opened her eyes again and caught sight of Robb with a group of boys. Perhaps, he would dance with her. He was an acceptable dancer and would not step on her toes. He always got so embarrassed and said no whenever she asked when he was with his friends, though. Sansa decided that it did not matter as she slipped out of her seat. Today was her day, Robb _had_ to dance with her.

She walked towards the group, wishing Jeyne were here with her to ask. One of the boys nudged Robb and pointed to her. Robb twisted to face her and smiled but all the other boys fell into silence. Even Theon went surprisingly quiet. She stopped, suddenly uncertain.

“Sansa,” Robb hurried towards her, taking her hand. She eyed his suspiciously. Robb was never like this when there were other boys around. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to dance,” she said, still feeling weary and suspicious. She wasn’t so certain that she wanted to dance at all, not with how all the boys were acting so strange. They kept on eying her and she turned to face Robb, feeling uncomfortable and seeking answers.

“I’ll dance with you,” one of the boys piped up. The other boys looked upset and put off.

“No! I will!” Another cried out. Theon pushed himself forward. Robb looked annoyed and her eyes darted between each boy, unsure if it was just some silly game that they were playing.

“I actually know her. I’ll dance with her,” Theon snapped. Robb sighed loudly.

“None of you will dance with her,” Robb snapped and dragged her away from the squabbling boys. She looked back, trying to keep up with Robb’s long strides. They reached the dancing couples, in time for the next dance.

“Why were they fighting?” She asked as Robb placed his hand on her back and led her into the dance. He shrugged, suddenly looking very nervous.

“Oh, they were just being silly, boys being boys,” he said quickly, twirling her around. She squeaked, dizzy from spinning so much and nearly falling onto the couple behind them. Robb mumbled an apology and righted her. She glared at him angrily. She should never have bothered to ask him to dance.

“Do it properly,” she snapped, wanting to stomp her foot.

“I am doing it properly,” Robb snarled back. At that moment, she wished that she was more like Arya so she could hit him. She breathed in deeply and calmed herself. _Ladies don’t get angry and they don’t hit their stupid brothers,_ she reminded herself.

“No, you’re not.” She tried to sound and be gentle but Robb still glowered at her. They danced for a little while longer, spinning around but she could tell that Robb was bored and ready to join again with Theon and all the others. She huffed loudly, grabbing his attention. He gave her an apologetic smile and twirled her around again until she was dizzy and breathless from laughter.

The dance finished and Robb broke away from her. She gave him a curtsey and he bowed and led her back to her seat.

"Thank you, my lady," he said grandly. She giggled at him and stuck her hand out for him to kiss. Robb didn't even wrinkle his nose this time and kissed her hand before scampering off. She sighed deeply, one day her life would be like this. Dances and feasts and kisses on the hand. Excitement built up in her stomach at the thought of it all. She could not wait. She yawned loudly, drawing her father’s attention. He laughed at her and pulled her to his side. She curled up next to him, feeling her eyes drooping but trying desperately to stay awake. She wanted to dance!

“I think it’s time that little lady goes to bed now,” her father said. She grimaced and yawned. She didn’t feel tired. She wanted to dance again!

“I’m not tired,” she said tartly but she yawned again. Her father raised an eyebrow at her but there was the usual gentle and soft smile he always reserved for her.

“You aren’t? Then why do you keep yawning?” He asked lightly. She frowned at his answer. “Let me take you to bed.” She shook her head. She was grown now and would soon be a woman. It didn’t seem right that she would be led to bed. She wasn’t a child anymore, not truly, she would soon be seven and that was when most betrothals were written up.

“I’m nearly grown. I’ll walk myself to bed,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Her father’s expression suddenly went unbearably sad, so sad that she very nearly took back what she said and begged him to take her to her room.

“I guess you are,” he said quietly, the sadness now gone from his face. “Goodnight my little lady.”

“Good night father,” she said, slipping out of her chair. She searched for her mother but her mother was deep in conversation with Lord Umber. It was childish and rude to interrupt people’s conversations so she decided against going to her mother to wish her good night.

She slipped out of the hall, the noise slowly faded to a quiet ringing in her ears. She had the mark and she was destined for love and greatness. She giggled, twirling around and around. If Septa Mordane saw her she would be furious but she was too happy. She was going to be part of some great and grand love story. She froze while spinning. She could hear someone crying.  It sounded like a little girl. She tiptoed closer to see who it was. The sounds were coming from Jon's room. She hesitated to move towards it. Her mother would be furious if she found out that she had gone near Jon's room. She couldn't just ignore someone crying, though. What if someone was hurt? What if Jon was hurt? She walked closer, the door was ajar and a crack of light shone through the gap. She moved towards it, silent and careful not to make a sound. It was improper to go into a boy’s room, especially one who was a bastard. She shook herself. The ladies in the songs did not stand around and do nothing when they heard or saw that someone was upset. She reached out towards the doorknob but stopped.

“Promise me that you won’t leave!” She jerked back. It was Arya who was crying. She froze, shocked. Arya never cried. It must have been something serious to make her cry. She was tempted to get her Lady Mother. She would know what to do but she pushed that desire away. Jon and Arya would get in trouble. She pressed herself close to the crack of the door and watched them.

“I won’t. How could I? You’re my little sister,” Jon said softly, his voice floating out the door.

"But Sansa's just got her mark and she says –"She frowned, what would her mark have anything to do with Arya being upset or Jon? She was confused but dread mounted up. Nothing, it shouldn't have anything to do with Arya or Jon. She should leave. Eavesdropping was rude and discourteous but she could not move. It was as if she were rooted to the spot.

“I’m a bastard so it doesn’t even matter,” Jon’s voice sounded sad. Why would something not matter? What was he talking about? _Well, your soulmate will never want you and never has_ _,_ Arya’s words and voice said, sounding just as spiteful and angry as before. _No, the gods would never be so cruel. It meant nothing,_ she told herself but she could feel panic and fear buzzing through her body. She was going to marry some handsome and wonderful knight or Lord or prince. The thoughts of her soulmate and future husband didn’t calm or excite like it usually did. All she could feel was dread. _The gods would never be so cruel,_ she tried to tell herself but she then remembered Septa Mordane’s words, _‘The gods can give and they can take away’._

“But you have a mark,” Arya protested weakly, her voice full of tears and fear. Why was Arya acting like this? Why did her mark matter so much to her? Why was Jon hiding his mark? Why had he never told anyone? She was too scared to move but she forced herself. She needed to see. She needed to know. It would be nothing, she told herself. Jon might have a mark but it wouldn’t be anything like hers. Maybe he didn’t have a mark. Maybe he was lying. She had never heard of some baseborn having the mark. It seemed impossible. It was impossible.

She stepped as close as she could to the door and pressed her eye to the crack, too scared to even breath. She could not see much from her position. All she could see was the chair.

"The mark doesn't mean anything," Jon told her firmly. He moved towards the chair and into her eyesight. She gasped when she saw him, her hand slapping over her mouth to silence to her cries. Jon spun around, his eyes wide and fearful but she ran. She could hear the shouts of Arya and Jon but she did not stop. She kept on running until she reached her room. She opened her door and then slammed it shut, quickly locking it. She stared at the lock, breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what she saw. It couldn’t be possible. It wasn’t. This was a dream or a nightmare. It wasn’t real but everything felt so solid underneath her hand. It all felt so real but the gods couldn’t be so cruel. The words of Arya and Septa Mordane rung in her ears. _The gods give and the take. Well, your soulmate will never want you and never has_ _._ A loud sob erupted from her mouth and she sunk to the ground. Her dreams of knights and princes and some wonderful love finally crumbled and were swept away. She tried to grasp at the last tendrils of her dreams but it was impossible. She couldn’t, not with what she had seen. Not when she had just seen the exact same mark as her own, printed onto her bastard brother’s back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

She stared at the wall lost in her thoughts. Her eyes were sore from tiredness but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep. Every time she did, she saw Jon and his, and the.. She buried her head under her furs and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see anyone ever. They would all still be happy and excited about her mark and the celebrations and she could barely stand to look at their proud faces. She had failed them. She had failed them all and was nothing more than a disappointment. She would never get a shining prince, or knights or love. All she would ever have was her half-brother Jon.

 Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of all that she had lost now and she curled up into a tight ball. What was the point of having a soulmate if it would all get taken away from her? She suddenly wished with everything that she had never even been given the stupid mark. What was so special about it if someone like Jon had it? There were some songs about bastards but they had all been funny songs. There had been no romance or love set for them. No great feats or sweeping romances or glory. She had wanted her song to start but she had never wanted it to start like this. She tried to search her mind for anything she might have done to anger the gods. Had she not prayed enough? Not been grateful or happy enough? She must have done _something_. Surely the gods weren’t that cruel? She tried to wrack her brain for any misdeeds but her mind remained blank and empty. Every time she tried to ask why or think then the memory of Jon’s mark rose, constant and unforgiving. A sword of fire surrounded by blue winter roses.

_This was all Arya’s fault,_ she thought to herself angry and bitter. _If she hadn’t made such a fuss or ran off to Jon, then I would have never known._   She had been so happy yesterday and she would have stayed happy if not for Arya. Her younger sister had once again ruined _everything_. She couldn’t rest all the blame on Arya though. It was Jon’s fault too. If he had only told everyone that he had a soulmark then she would have never raised her hopes up or gotten so excited. She scowled at the wall, anger curling and twisting beneath her skin. _Stupid Jon. Stupid Arya,_ she thought to herself viciously.

“Sansa!” She paled at the sound of the Septa’s voice. What if Septa Mordane could tell that she had seen her soulmate? She had never read of any changes that happened when you met your soulmate but the mark was so rare that there was little information on it anyway. The Septa was a holy woman and the mark was from the gods. What if the gods revealed the truth to her? The thought of it all made her near cry.

 “Sansa!” Septa Mordane barked, impatience creeping into her voice. She sighed deeply and slowly made her way to the door, trembling all of the way. Septa Mordane had been so proud and now she would find out about the twisted future the gods had in store for her and she would be horrified. She hesitated for a moment but then twisted the key and opened the door. Septa Mordane stood before her. Looking as annoyed and severe as ever. She shrunk at the sight of her. Terrified by the Septa’s reaction. What would Septa Mordane even do with her if she ever found out who her soulmate was? Would she be forced to become a Septa as well, or worse, a Silent Sister? There were whispers of that they cut the tongues of the Silent Sisters to stop them ever speaking. Would her tongue get taken out to stop her from speaking of her shame? Tears made their way to her eyes and this time she let out a loud sob. Septa Mordane’s eyes widened and she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She tried her best to not flinch away, still trembling and crying.

“What is it child? Why are you crying like this? The gods have given you a great blessing. You should be happy,” Septa Mordane said gently. Her words only made her cry the more. She didn’t want to lose her tongue or have a bastard brother as a soulmate. She wanted to marry a prince or knight.  She had always been good. It wasn’t _fair_ that she was getting punished by the gods, not when she had been so happy before. The Septa stared at her, confused and lost for words.

“I’m just feeling ill,” she said, still crying. She tried to rub her face but that didn't help much and she eventually gave up. The Septa pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, still looking concerned.

“You do feel a little warm. Perhaps we should go to the maesters.” She hurriedly shook her head, not wanting to see anyone at all.

“Can’t I just stay in my room,” she begged, wringing her hands but the Septa only shook her head.

“No, I’m sorry but your father will be expecting to break fast with you,” Septa Mordane sighed and swept past her into her room. She wrinkled her nose at the crumpled dress from yesterday but said nothing. “Perhaps eating something will make you feel better.” She nodded miserably. She didn’t want to see anyone, not Jon or Arya or her parents or Robb and little Bran. They would only laugh at her if they ever found out and her mother would be furious. Her eyes widened at the thought of her Lady Mother. What would her reaction be? Her mother hated Jon and his mere presence shamed her. Knowing that her own soul had betrayed her mother and chosen her father’s bastard despite how his presence hurt her was awful. The anger and shame slowly drained away only to be replaced by guilt.

"Come, child, get ready for the day and dry your tears. You'll feel much better soon enough." Septa Mordane pushed her towards her cupboard and busied herself looking through it. "You're near grown now, why not your purple dress. It's a bit more mature than your other clothes but now with this mark, you're no longer a child,” the Septa prattled on but she found herself feeling dazed and confused. Womanhood had always seemed so magical and exciting but that had been before she had seen Jon’s mark. Nothing felt exciting or wonderful anymore. It was all just a swirl of confusion and crumbled dreams.

The Septa handed her the dress and she pulled it on, half-dazed. It all felt so unreal as if she were playing in a mummer's farce. It was as if it were not truly her getting ready and preparing for the day ahead of her as if some strange spirit had taken a hold of her body and it wasn’t truly Sansa about to break her fast with her family. Everything was so mundane, too mundane and normal. She was still getting dressed and still listening to the Septa and still doing all the usual things that she did. It was almost as if everything was still good again. But it wasn’t. Nothing was good anymore.  Jon and Arya had made sure to end that.

 She had only wanted yesterday night to be magical and wonderful. She had been so happy and excited before. Having a soulmark had made her feel special. It was supposed to be a blessing but she felt nothing but cursed.

"Come now, Sansa." Septa Mordane took her hand and led her out of the door. She didn't want to leave. She never wanted to see anyone again. The Septa hadn't noticed anything strange about her but what if her parents or worse, Jon noticed something and then realised the truth of her soulmark. She knew that her fears were impossible and silly. But hadn’t her meeting her soulmate also been impossible before? Her stomach dropped and she felt ill at the thought of Jon as her soulmate. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. They entered the Hall and both her parents looked up at her and smiled but their smile slowly faded away at the sight of her, only to be replaced with concern. Panic and fear struck her. Had they seen anything? Did they know? Had the gods revealed Jon’s mark to her parents as well?

“Sansa, sweetling, what’s wrong?” Her father asked, shifting forward in his chair. She had to bite hard at the inside of her mouth to stop herself from crying and spilling everything. _No. You can’t. It’s all wrong,_ she told herself harshly. She smiled weakly at him.

“I’m well father. I just feel ill. It must be all those lemon cakes I ate,” she lied, praying that he didn’t hear or see her falseness. Her father still looked concern but he relaxed ever so slightly.

“Yes, your mother said that you had eaten a lot,” her father laughed, finally leaning back and relaxing. She glanced at her mother but hurriedly looked away. It somehow felt wrong to look at her with Jon being her soulmate. All her life she had tried to be like her mother and yet her soul had chosen her father’s bastard. Her disloyalty – even though she had never wanted to betray her mother – was almost worse than being destined for her half-brother Jon. She could feel a heavy gaze on her and turned to see who it was. It was Jon, blue eyes locked onto gray. His eyes were wide and fearful and she almost felt herself softening towards him. She ripped herself away from his gaze, aghast at herself. She shouldn’t feel sympathy or soften towards him. He didn’t deserve it. He had ruined _everything._ She reminded herself of that as she took her seat besides Jeyne and as far away as possible from Jon and Arya.

Jeyne shot her a curious look but she ignored her. She was too scared that she might blurt out the truth to even say a word. No, she had to keep silent. She tried to eat but her mouth was so dry that she could barely swallow.

 She tried to ignore Jon but it was hard. She kept on giving him furtive glances and studying him. His hair was more messy than usual and he looked exhausted and miserable but worse than that, he looked terrified. Her heart softened again. It wasn’t _truly_ Jon’s fault. He had tried to hide the mark and would have continued to if not for Arya. It was all Arya’s fault. She wondered if he was angry at Arya as well. She couldn’t imagine him being angry at her. Jon _adored_ Arya and he was always taking her sides and playing her silly games. Arya was still probably innocent as ever in Jon’s eyes despite it all being her fault. Jon barely looked at her, to lost in his own misery. She tried to stop looking at him. Jon wasn’t even looking at her. He remained completely oblivious to her but she couldn’t stop staring. _He didn’t look like a prince,_ she thought to herself critically. But then again, he was baseborn. Why or how would he be able to look like a prince?

Jon suddenly looked up and caught her gaze. He looked suspicious and curious. She squeaked and stared hard at her hands in her lap. She could still feel his stare but she ignored it and refused to look up. What was wrong with her? She was acting silly. Jon was baseborn but he was her brother still. Why was she shying away from his stare like this? She looked up and stared at him boldly, feeling bravery flood through her. Jon flinched, obviously startled but did not turn away. They stared at each other, both too stubborn to back down. Jon was frowning but it didn’t seem so unfriendly now. It just seemed like something he just did rather than an expression of annoyance or disdain.

The rest of her family continued to talk and eat. It was only Arya and Jeyne who noticed something different. Arya’s lower lip was puckered out as if she might start crying and Jeyne looked merely bemused,

“Why are you having a staring contest with Jon?” Jeyne whispered into her ear but she waved off.

“Shh Jeyne, can’t you see I’m busy?” Jeyne hmphed loudly and turned away abruptly, obviously put out. Hey, eyes were burning and sore but she refused to back down. It was unladylike to have staring contests while sat at the table but she could not bring herself to stop the silly little game. She was even having some fun with it. Jon had a very good stony face. All she wanted to do was laugh and giggle but his expression remained still and blank.

There was a loud clash and a shriek. She tore her gaze away from Jon and turned to look at the origins of the sound aghast. It was Arya, her bowl was smashed on the ground, her porridge splattered everywhere.

"Arya!" Both her mother and the Septa shouted in unison. Her father sighed and straightened up. Jeyne screeched loudly and Bran squealed, clapping his hands and looking excited and happy at the sudden mess. Arya, however, did not react. She looked angry and stubborn and upset.

“Look at this mess you created?” The Septa shouted.

“I told you to be careful when eating,” Her mother admonished but Arya remained stonily silent.

“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled, whilst staring at her feet. “It was an accident.” Their father sighed and shook his head.

“Go and get yourself cleaned now. Septa could you go with her?” Arya pushed herself off her seat and stomped away and past the Septa who was still quietly grumbling under her breath. She watched Arya go but her little sister barely spared a glance at her. Jon stared after their sister, looking concerned and worried, his attention now away from her. She frowned at his sudden change in interest. Jon was _her_ soulmate, not Arya’s. It didn’t seem fair that Jon still worried about Arya when it was _her_ fault that they were in this mess. Sure, Jon didn’t know anything yet but he must have at least _sensed_ something. She turned away from Jon. It didn’t matter how Jon did or didn’t act because she would make sure that he never found out. The thought made her suddenly feel sad. She had never wanted Jon as a soulmate but it still seemed unbearably sad that she would have a soulmate and know of him, but he would never know of her. The songs would never remember or know her. She felt tired again and pushed herself off her seat.

"Please, I may be excused?” She asked quietly. Her mother directed a vague, distracted nod at her, still groaning about the mess Arya had made. She quickly left, trying her best not to run. She turned back to look at Jon but he was once again lost in his thoughts. Tears pricked at her eyes at the sight. How could he be her soulmate when he didn’t even _care_? She bit the inside of her mouth hard. She refused to cry. She would not cry. Anger flooded through her body. No, she would not cry about Jon. She would get some answers. It was the gods that had given her this mark and made Jon her soulmate. It would be the gods that told her why. She marched towards the sept, ignorant and unaware of all her surroundings.

She needed answers. The gods had answered her prayers before when they had shown her who her soulmate was. Why would they stop now? There was no point, not when they had already revealed the truth to her. She finally reached the sept and pushed the door open. It was empty and she sighed in relief. She had not been expecting to see Septa Mordane but sometimes the servants snuck into here. She stood before the Seven, unsure of whom to direct her prayer too. It made sense to go to the Mother or the Maiden but each time she tried to speak, the words fled from her. What was she to say? She had been so certain of what to say and do before but her mind was now blank. All her courage and words had fled her. It was best that she left. There was nothing that could be done. She would have to live with the shame and move on. She was frozen. She knew she should move now and leave but she couldn’t. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of two statues, pushed away into the shadows and hidden, the Crone and the Stranger. She took a long match, standing on her tiptoes and lighting it. She hesitated, she had never prayed to either the Crone or the Stranger before. Stubbornness set in. It was not the Father’s judgement or the Maiden’s virtue or even the Mother’s mercy and compassion. It was wisdom that she needed and knowledge of the unknown.

She crept towards the Crone first and lit a candle for her, whilst kneeling down. She looked up at the Crone and studied her aged and wrinkled face. Now that she was so close to the statue, the Crone did not seem so scary. There was something about her that reminded her of Old Nan. _There is nothing to be scared of. It’ll just be like talking to Old Nan,_ she told herself, for the first time feeling calm. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes _. Imagine Old Nan instead_ , she told herself. She tried to quell her fears and nerves, she was a Stark and Starks were never afraid. The Seven weren’t the gods of the North but they were her mother’s gods and even now, she could not imagine them being cruel or scary. Not when her mother loved them so.

“I don’t know what to do. I know the Mark is from the gods but this doesn’t seem right. Please guide me and show me the way? Give me wisdom and shine a light on my path,” she prayed. The statue of the Crone stared on. There was no flicker of understanding or kindness. _Old Nan’s eyes were never so empty_ , she thought to herself, feeling hollow.

“Please tell me what to do about Jon,” she begged in a hushed whisper but wisdom did not suddenly strike her. No knowledge flooded her being. All she had was her mounting anger and confusion. She had been sure that the gods, that the Crone would show her the truth but nothing happened. She pushed herself up from her position, suddenly angry. Why were the gods staying still and silent? Why were they doing this now when moments ago, they had happily revealed everything? Tears filled her eyes, obscuring her sight of the Crone. _Good_ , she thought to herself, _I never want to lay eyes on the Crone or any of the others again._ She turned away and ran out, angry at everyone and everything. Angry at the gods. Angry at Arya. Angry at Jon and everyone else who had ever thought the soulmark was a blessing.

She could see people looking at her and staring, concerned and worried but she didn’t care. The Seven were supposed to show her the way and give her truth but they had all been silent. She ran past them, her feet leading her to some unknown destination. Soon she was out of the castle, the cold air biting and sharp but she didn’t care. She could barely breathe but she pushed past it all. It didn’t matter, none of it did.

She collapsed underneath the weirwood tree, her lungs and muscles burning. She was gasping for breath but she was still crying and that only made her body and heart hurt all the worse.

She finally looked up. She didn't know why she had ever even come to the Godswood. Though it was the place of the Starks, it frightened her. She did not like the way the tree looked like it was crying tears of blood or the way it seemed so sentient and alive. There was something strange about the Godswood that always left her feeling unsure. Still, she stepped closer, making sure to mind the dirt and laid a curious and gentle hand against the bark. _It’s sad like me,_ she thought to herself. The Godswood still scared her but she found that she didn’t mind it so much, not when she was sad and crying too. Seeing it now was like seeing an old friend. Her fear drained away as she studied the face of it. There was something familiar about it. Something that she knew. She leaned closer, trying her best to study its sad face. There was the sudden crack of a twig and she hurriedly turned towards the sound, snatching her hand away from the tree. She turned to see who it was but scowled at the sight. It was Arya.

“What do you want?” She sneered, feeling the anger mounting up at the sight of her sister.

“The Godswood doesn’t belong to you! I can be here if I want,” Arya snapped but she stayed rooted to her spot. She sniffed loudly and tried to turn away. “Why are you crying?” Arya asked. She twisted towards Arya and glared.

“Why should I tell you? You’ll just make things worse.” Arya didn’t snarl at her or shout or stomp her feet. She only slumped her shoulders and stared at her feet. She took a hesitant step forward, suddenly worried. Arya never acted like this.

“I’m sorry about shouting at you yesterday and pushing you,” Arya said carefully, sounding genuine.

“It’s fine,” she said softly, shuffling her feet. “I understand why you might have been angry.” Arya’s head shot up, her eyes wide and full of understanding. She stared at her confused, realisation slowly setting in.

“It was you!” Arya shouted. She grimaced at the accusation and turned away her head. Everyone would find out now about her shame. Arya walked closer to her but hesitated and stopped before she got to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied but Arya stared at her in disbelief.

"Don't lie. You saw." She tried to look elsewhere as fear pooled into her stomach. Perhaps this was her punishment for getting angry at the gods. She stayed silent and didn't say anything, though. "I won't tell anyone. Not even Jon, not if you don't want me to," Arya said gentling her voice. Tears once more filled her eyes and streamed down her face and she nodded stiffly.

"Does he know?" She asked hesitantly. Arya shook her head and she sighed from relief but there was a pinch of disappointment. She didn't want Jon as a soulmate or him to find out but he was the only soulmate that she would ever have. She still wanted the songs, even if she got her half-brother instead of a prince.

“Jon’s good and kind. You’re lucky. He’s really good at playing games and he gives the best hugs and he musses up your hair.” She scoffed. She didn’t want hugs or messy hair or silly games. She wanted a prince or a knight. She wanted a husband and love.

“I don’t _want_ Jon,” she snapped, the reality and truth of her situation finally sinking in. Her baseborn brother was her soulmate. Jeyne and even Arya and all her brothers would get married and be happy and would be remembered in the songs. Her future suddenly appeared to her, startlingly horrifying and clear. Her and Jon, old and wrinkled, living in some hovel. No one would remember her name or know her stories. No one would care. Arya did not snap or get angry at her, she only came closer and took her hand. Without truly meaning or wanting to she grasped her sister’s hand.

"It won't be so bad. Imagine all the adventures you'll be able to have?" Arya said again but she could hear the jealousy and longing. Her heart softened. Arya may not have been the best at comforting but at least she was _trying_.

“I guess,” she mumbled, staring at her feet. Arya tugged her hand and sat down, dragging her down alongside her. She sat down, trying to find a comfortable position. The curled up together, hidden away by the roots of the weirwood.

“Why would it be so bad to have Jon as a soulmate,” Arya burst out loudly. Her voice echoing through the silent grove. She shot Arya a panicked look, tearing herself away from her but Arya only held on all the tighter.

“Let go of me now Arya! I’ll tell Mother! _Let me go_ ,” she howled, trying to shake Arya off still but Arya’s grip only got all the tighter.

“Jon’s good and gentle and brave and kind.” She shut her eyes tightly, frantically shaking her head. She didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want to hear any of it. Arya was stubborn though and continued listing all the good things about Jon. _He was good at fighting._ _He was fun._   _He always listened._

“I don’t _want_ Jon! I want a husband and a castle and children. I want to be like a lady in a song.” She finally shouted, her voice went all whispery and teary at the end. Arya stopped and rolled her eyes.

“You can still have that. A husband and castles and children. I don’t know why you would _want_ to but you can still have it,” Arya said hastily at her dark look.

"No, I can't. No one will want me after this,” she near wept. Visions of her future assaulted her, constant and ruthless in their attack. Arya only frowned, looking rather unimpressed. It reminded her sharply of their Lady Mother’s look of disapproval. The sharp glare so alike to their mother’s own ire was enough to dry her tears and pull her to attention.

“I don’t see why not. It’s not like you’ll be marrying Jon. It’ll be like having a best friend,” Arya said earnestly. She frowned.

“Jeyne’s my best friend.”

“Jeyne’s stupid!”

“Arya!” She shouted, stomping her foot. Arya sighed rolled her eyes.

"Well, she is!" She glowered at her little sister but Arya seemed unperturbed.

“Would you stop insulting Jeyne. It’s rude,” she sighed, feeling a headache coming on.

“Fine but it doesn’t matter.” She opened her mouth but Arya quickly shouted over her. “Sansa, it won’t be bad. Jon’s kind. Kinder than anyone I know.” She studied her sister. Arya was staring at her feet but her voice had gone all soft and sad. She reached out to take Arya’s hand but thought better of it. Arya wouldn’t like it and anyway, she still didn’t know why Arya would be helping her now.

“Why are you helping me?” She asked. Arya looked up at her for a moment but then looked away, shrugging.

“I don’t want Jon sent away.” She rolled her eyes. She should have known. Arya had never once done anything nice or helpful for her. Why would she start now? “And Jon would be a good friend for you, much better than Jeyne. I don’t mind sharing anymore.” She froze at Arya’s words. Not even the jab at Jeyne could get her to speak.

“Thank you,” she said finally. Arya shrugged. She wrinkled her nose and had to bite her tongue. It was horribly unladylike to shrug but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. _I’ll tell her off about it next time_ , she told herself.

“Will you tell him the truth?” Arya asked, tearing her out of her thoughts. It took all of the Septa’s teachings to stop her mimicking Arya and shrugging too. She didn’t know what to do. The gods had revealed Jon to her. Shouldn’t she feel grateful? Every time she had been told or read the stories of soulmates, all the ladies in them had been happy and joyful at meeting their soulmates and the union but she felt nothing but confusion. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She wasn’t even sure if she was doing any of it right. Arya must have noted her uncertainty. “Father always prays when he’s lost or when he needs help.”

“Father’s never lost,” she said half-heartedly but she listened. She couldn’t imagine their Lord Father ever feeling as confused and lost as herself. She couldn’t imagine their father feeling confused or lost at all but Arya was right about something. Their father spent hours under the weirwood tree, praying or just staying silent and meditating. He always seemed happier, more at rest after a prayer. Perhaps, whatever peace he found, she would find too. She nodded.

“All right,” she answered, allowing herself to be dragged closer to the face of the weirwood. The sad face of the weirwood tree still frightened her but this time she didn’t shiver or avert her eyes. She was a Stark and could be brave too and anyhow, Arya was here. Her sister was certain to tease her if she showed her fear. They kneeled together, beneath the tree. She stared up at the face of the tree but all her words and wit had fled. She didn’t know what to say.

“What should I say?” She asked, turning to Arya. Her sister looked just as unsure and confused as her.

“I don’t know. Just say what comes into your mind. Father never seems to say anything.,” Arya offered. She frowned that didn’t sound right. Surely there should have been some kind of prayer or order to it all? With the Seven it was standard to light candles before you even began to pray but with the old gods, she didn’t even know where to start.

“Please,” her voice faded into silence and uncertainty. Please, what? What was she supposed to say or ask? Please give me another soulmate? Please don't let anyone find out? Please let my life and story be remembered in a song? Please, what? Arya's hand curled over hers, squeezing gently. She wrapped her fingers around Arya’s tiny little one, feeling a rush of gratitude and appreciation for her little sister. “Please,” she began again. “Please show me what to do,” she said finally. There was no sudden whoosh of noise. No magical sign. Nothing but the steady silence of the Godswood and the quiet thrum of something more. She was not struck by wisdom or knowledge but a strange sort of peace settled over her. _I have to tell him,_ she thought to herself half-panicked. She couldn’t keep something like this from him. Not even if she truly wanted too.

She pushed herself up. Arya stared at her, looking just as confused and unsure as she felt.

“What is it?” Arya asked hesitantly, looking like she wanted to hear anything other than her answer.

“I have to tell him.” Arya grimaced but quickly nodded, staring hard at the face of the weirwood tree.

"Well, I guess you better go then," Arya said roughly, stabbing and swishing her finger violently in the snow. She stared at Arya wearily.

“Aren’t you going to come?” Arya shook her head silently, turning her back to her. “Very well. I’ll see you soon,” she said, trying to crush the hurt. Arya and Jon were close, of course, it would be hard for her. She had known that the comradely and sisterly moment wouldn’t last, but. She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She needed to find Jon. She hesitated, wanting to say something else, thank you but Arya was still stubbornly avoiding her glance and she knew that anything she would say now would only make it all worse. She sighed sadly and turned away, walking away from the small huddled figure of her sister.

She left the Godswood, unable to think of anything to say or do to help Arya. All the ladies in the songs helped those who were sad and Arya was only little. She shouldn’t be leaving her behind when she was upset but she couldn’t bear to look back. She looked over to Arya’s little form. She couldn’t see her face but she knew that Arya would be sad about this. She walked back to Arya slowly but stopped.

“Arya, come on. I’m not leaving you here.” Arya stiffened at her words but did not turn to face her.

“Leave me alone! I don’t want to see your stupid face!” It took everything in her not to smack Arya. _Ladies do not hit their awful little sisters. Ladies do not hit their awful little sisters_ , she reminded herself but it was hard to remember that when Arya was acting like a little monster.

“Arya please, don’t be like this. Let’s get you warm,” she said kindly.

“I told you to leave me alone stupid! I can’t believe that you can’t hear me with those huge ears!” She gasped, her hands shooting off to her ears. Theon and Robb had used to tease her about her ears and how big it was. She had grown into it now but she was still sensitive about them.

“Come right now,” she snapped, stomping her foot, all her former gentleness now forgotten.

_“No!”_

“I’ll tell mother!” She warns, hoping that Arya didn’t hear the lie in her voice. She wouldn’t go to mother, not when Arya had been so lovely moments ago. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself, it was hard to care about any of that when Arya was acting like a brat.

“I don’t care!” Arya’s little and angry voice shattered the peace and quiet of the Godswood. She could feel her face slowly turning red and her anger rising. Ladies weren’t supposed to get angry but she was certain that no lady had to ever deal with someone like Arya.

“Arya, you have to come!” But Arya only shook her head. She wanted to scream and stomp her feet but she could only imagine the look that the Septa or mother would give her if she did that. _How is it that father is always able to deal with Arya?_ Their father had a special way with Arya. He had always been able to calm her wild sister with just a look. She frowned, trying to think how best to emulate their father. _He’s gentle but firm and he never gets angry._

“Arya, please come in with me. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself I left you out here and all the others will be worrying about you.” Arya shook her head and she nearly groaned. It seemed like nothing would convince Arya to move. She was about to turn away and leave, now tired but Arya’s voice stopped her.

“No, they won’t. They’re all too happy about you to care about me,” Arya said, still sounding stubborn but she slowly turned towards her. Guilt pooled into her stomach at the sight of Arya. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying and her face blotchy. _I was shouting at her this whole time and she was crying._ Sansa had never felt more like a worst sister or person in her life.

“Yes, they will. Everyone loves you! Even the Septa!”

"You're her favourite, though," Arya pointed out but she was certain that was done more out of stubbornness than any actual pain.

“You’re Bran’s favourite.”

"Well, Robb likes you better."

“Jon _adores_ you.” They stared at each other, neither quite willing to let up the fight but Arya started giggling and she soon joined in. It was ridiculous, fighting over who was more loved. She didn’t think she had ever seen anything more silly in her life, she thought to herself as she giggled some more. Their laughter died down and Arya stared up at her, eyes curious and wide.

“I like you a lot as well. More than even Jeyne and Beth,” she confessed and it was true. Right now, she could not think of a better sister. Arya’s face changed for a moment and she smiled up at her, all wide and toothy. She grinned back, forgetting that ladies weren’t supposed to grin so widely but for the most part, not caring.

Arya pushed herself up from her feet and walked towards her. “Well come on then. You better go in,” Arya shouted out cheekily. She rolled her eyes at her words but nothing could get rid of the silly grin on her face.

“You’re awful,” she laughs but Arya only grins back.

“I can’t be if I’m going to help you with Jon.”

*****

She goes over the words Arya had told her.

“ _Don’t smile too much and don’t talk a lot and nothing about songs. Talk about swords and his fights but don’t talk too much about it because he might get suspicious. Don’t say a word about soulmates.”_

_“Anything else?”_

_“Yes. Don’t prance or laugh a lot and don’t talk about flowers and don’t talk about what he wants to do.”_

The list had gone on like that in a similar fashion. She could barely wrap her head all around it. She didn’t know anything about swords or fighting and she would rather never find anything about it. It looked dirty and gross and like no fun at all. Jon wasn’t a proper soulmate but she didn’t like the idea of conversations and talk of swords and fighting as her first conversation with him. She wrinkled her nose. She had tried to tell Arya that but the other girl had only pinned her with a look.

“ _Who knows him better, me or you.”_ Had been Arya’s only reply. She had been tempted to point out that it was _her_ that was Jon’s soulmate and therefore _she_ that knew him better. There hadn’t been enough, as grateful she was for Arya, she never wanted to see anything like that _again._

She spotted Jon walking towards his usual spot and thankfully alone. She moved towards him but stopped. How was she supposed to go up to him? Arya, strangely enough, had forgotten to mention that on her long list of dos and don'ts. She frowned, Arya and all her brothers would all just go up to Jon, pounding him on the back, laughing and so on. She couldn't imagine herself doing that. Soulmate or not, she didn't really know him and it would scare him. Besides, it looked like he had just had training and he was sweaty. She didn't want to touch him while he was dirty and gross.

She sighed, it was best to just get it over and done with. She slid from out of her spot. “Jon!” His head snapped towards her. She startled at his sudden attention. She hadn’t even shouted or said his name but he had heard her. She remembers once hearing Robb complain about Jon’s hearing, _he has the ears of a fox,_ had been Robb’s words after losing another game of hide and seek to Jon. She could not help but agree as she walked closer to him. Jon was studying her curiously, suspicion glinting in his eyes. She smiled weakly, forgetting Arya’s advice immediately. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her smile. She tried her best not to turn in the other direction and run. She hadn’t even said a word to him yet and already it was difficult. She wished that Arya had taught her how to go up to Jon instead of that silly list instead. That seemed more important. She did not stop walking though and continued until she was right in front of him.

“Hello Jon,” she said kindly. Jon eyed her but said his own greeting.

“Sansa, is there anything that I can help you with?” He asked but she could hear the curiosity burning in his voice. She did not usually go up to Jon and talk to him. She couldn’t remember the last time she had talked to Jon on her own. It must have been years ago, now.

"Yes, there is, could we please talk?" She asked it was best that she just got straight to the point rather than waiting around. They were soulmates, weren't they and all the songs had said that soulmates could say whatever was on their mind.

“Is it not something that your mother could help you with?” She paled at the mention of her mother, her throat clenching. Her mother would be so angry if she ever found out. Not only was Jon her soulmate but she was choosing to accept that. She wanted nothing more than to run and hide away and beg her mother for forgiveness. Jon’s presence _hurt_ her mother and yet here she was, accepting him. She did none of those things, though, she only shook her head. Jon stared at her with wide and unsure eyes.

“Only you,” she told him. He frowned at her words, his eyes darting all around the room. He looked nervous and trapped but he nodded.

“Fine, but we should go somewhere else.” She nodded, grateful for his offer of privacy. The others would get suspicious if they saw her talking with Jon and she didn’t even want to imagine her mother’s reaction.

He hurried her into one of the shadowed corners, a deep, dark and dusty alcove. She wrinkled her nose at being pushed in. Dirt would get all over her dress. Septa Mordane would be furious when she saw her. _It would be worth it_ , she told herself _, what’s a little dirt to this?_ She tried to tell herself but that didn’t make her feel any better. Jon was sweaty and smelt funny and she could already think of a number things that would be better than this.

“What is it then?” He asked, now turning to her. His face was so close to hers that she could see the flickers of violet in his eyes. She had once overheard the servers saying that Jon’s mother was Lady Ashara. She had heard songs of the other woman, so many had said that she was beautiful and that she had thrown herself out of a tower. She wondered if Jon knew that his mother was Ashara Dayne?

“You have dirt on your nose.” Jon scowled at her, pushing himself away and rubbing roughly at his nose. She watched him clean at it.

“Is it gone now?” The dirt still clung stubbornly to his skin. It wasn’t gone, he had missed the spot entirely but she only nodded. They fell into an awkward silence and she played with the thread of her dress. Septa Mordane would be furious if she ever saw her pulling at the threads but she had not quite been able to get rid of the awful habit.

“What was it that you wanted?” Jon asked, leaning against one of the walls. She watched him and copied after him. She might as well get comfortable. This would be a long story.

“I, well, I know, your.” She stopped again, angry and frustrated at her inability to talk. The words had seemed so simple before. Arya had even told her what to say but her mind was now completely blank. Jon’s gaze was kind and patient and she relaxed ever so slightly. _In the songs, they told them and kissed them and held their hands and lived happily ever after._ Saying the words wasn’t so easy and she had seen Jon’s hands. They were caked with dirt and mud. She did not even entertain the thought of kissing him. The thought of it made her feel a little sick. 

“Yes, what is it?” She took in a deep breath. _You’re in a song. This is the start of your song. Just say the words._

“I saw your mark.” Jon’s reaction is immediate. All the colour from his face drains away, only to be replaced with fear and horror. He has never looked so scared. She tries to touch him but he flinches. “Jon.”

“Please don’t tell anyone. Please Sansa,” he begs her, his words terrified.

“I won’t she says quickly. I can’t.” He relaxes at her words but he is still stiff and he looks anywhere but at her.

“Thank you,” he mumbles and he smiles at her weakly. It is the first smile he has given her today, perhaps the first one he has given her in ages. It is perhaps this that causes the words burst out. There is a touch of uncertainty and shyness and sweetness in his smile and it makes something inside her warm. The thought of having Jon as a best friend instead doesn’t seem so bad when he smiles at her like that.

“I can’t say anything because you’re my soulmate. Our marks match,” she says hurriedly. Suddenly excited for her and Jon’s new friendship. Not even noticing how he goes paler than even before.

“What?” She stops, suddenly looking at him. He’s staring at her but it’s as if he can’t see her. His face is pale but there is a tinge of green as well. He looks horrified and disgusted at her words. She tries to say something but the words are all stuck in her throat, unattainable, unreachable and lost. _I should have never told him,_ she thinks to herself but it is too late. The words are out and there is no way to take them back again.

 “Jon?” She asked hesitantly. Jon finally looks like he’s staring at her. She freezes at the sight of him, too scared to move, too scared to truly say or think or do anything.

“No,” he breathes out. The whisper was so hushed that she nearly doesn’t believe her ears. No? How could he mean no? She tries to open her mouth and speak but all the words were stuck in her throat. She could not utter a word, let alone properly breathe. She suddenly felt dizzy, Jon's horrified and pale face swimming in her vision. He was still vigorously shaking his head. It was as if his first word had broken the seal. She had wanted Jon to speak before but now all she wanted now was his silence. 

“No. No! I don’t want this. I don’t want you. I don’t want a soulmate,” with each word, the anger and frustration seemed to grow, bubbling over, breaking beneath the skin, sinking into his voice. It was now her that was silent. Struck still in the face of his upset and disappointment. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. The songs had never talked about rejection or anger. She felt something inside her, strain painfully and tear. The pain was strange and sharp and unknown. It was as if something inside her was slowly being torn. Fear struck her as she suddenly realised what he was trying to do. He was trying to tear the bond. He was trying to break the connection. She tried to speak and scream at him. She wanted to tell him to stop but pain clouded her mind. It was unbearable. The pain was too unbearable. She could barely breathe. Jon froze suddenly, seeing her pain and rushed to her side. She tried to rip herself away from him but her legs were unsteady and weak and she felt dizzy. She ended up falling into him instead. He caught her, gently lowering the both of them into the floor.

 “Sansa,” he shouted terrified, shaking her gently. “Sansa!” His eyes were wide with fear. She sucked in a large gulp of air. Her lungs rejoicing. The pain had faded into an ache. It was no longer a sharp pain but she could still feel it. She pressed her hand to her heart, feeling it beat erratically against her chest. She breathed deeply, trying to get her bearings. Jon hugged her but she pushed him away. What he had just done; what he had tried to do set in. _He tried to break the mark,_ she thought to herself, horror setting in. Jon looked everywhere and anywhere but at her. She could feel his guilt, powerful and overwhelming but she couldn’t bring herself to feel any sympathy for him. All she could feel was anger. He had tried to break the mark. Each time she thought of it, the anger mounted.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he mumbled, sounding pained and guilty. She tried to bite down on her words but they escaped, spiteful and vicious.

“Do you think that I wanted you? My own mother _hates_ you! I never wanted a bastard for a soulmate. If anyone should be breaking the mark, it should be me,” she sneered. Jon flinched, hurt and shame colouring his features. There were tears in his eyes too but she did not care. She did not care at all. She had tried. She had truly tried and yet Jon had rejected her so completely. He had nearly broken something that should never be broken. Her insides and heart ached terribly. She had thought Jon was good. She had thought he was kind but right at the moment, she could not think of anyone that deserved the title of bastard more than he did. She had been stupid to believe the songs were wrong about him. The songs were right, those who were baseborn were cruel. Arya had lied. The gods had lied. All had lied to her. Jon pushed himself up and away from her. His face was wet with tears but she could not bring herself to care anymore. Not when her heart hurt so much.  

“Go away. Leave me alone. I don’t want you,” she snapped. She could feel wetness on her face and hastily tried to wipe it away, confused. She was crying? Why was she crying? Jon didn’t deserve her tears.  Jon was frozen before her, tears silently streaming down his face. She wanted him to reach out to her and comfort her. She wanted him to act and be like all the princes in the songs. He did none of those things. He just stood there, staring at her, angry and guilty and ashamed. _Do something! Why won’t you do something?_ She pushed herself off the ground, her legs shaky and weak. Jon offered a silent hand but she ignored it and walked past him. She tried to be like her mother. Strong and calm and steady in her but right at the moment, she felt like nothing other than a silly girl.

 She didn’t dare look back, too angry and scared to look at him. Her eyes were burning and hot and she tried to ignore it all but it was impossible. She had a soulmate and he didn’t even _want_ anything to do with her. She finally reached the end of the narrow space and pushed herself out into the corridor. There was no one there thankfully and she walked down the corridor. Trying her best to look like her mother and father both. _You are a lady. Ladies do not cry. You are a lady. Ladies do not get dirt all over their dress. You are a lady. Ladies are brave and strong and don’t get angry and don’t get hurt and don’t get rejected by their soulmates and princes. You are a lady._ She felt as far apart and away from ladies as possible. She was supposed to be a lady but she had done all of that. Her dress was now dirty and she was scared and crying and angry, but worst of all, she was rejected.

The tears burned something fearsome, making it hard to think or see or do anything. One thing that it didn’t make hard was seeing Jon’s face and his horror. _No one wants me and they never will, not even stupid Jon._

“Sansa!” She looked up, it was Arya. Her face painted with concern and worry but she turned away. She didn’t want Arya’s, or anyone’s concern or worry. She just wanted to be alone. She could hear Arya running after her but she ignored it. _Leave me alone Arya. I want to be my own,_ she silently said but Arya did not hear her silent message and she did not care. The other girl soon caught up with her and grabbed her hand.

She wanted to say something. She wanted to say that Arya was an awful liar because Jon was awful or that soulmates were stupid or that she was cursed. She said nothing, though, she just stayed silent as Arya studied her carefully. Her face hardened for a moment but then softened and her hand gently squeezed her own.

“Brothers are stupid,” was all Arya said and she could not agree more with something in her life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter of this. Sorry for taking so long with this. The poem that influenced the title of this story is called Scheherazade by Richard Siken. It is an absolutely lovely poem so I would check it out. You can find me on tumblr as dragonchristianlady.

**Author's Note:**

> As a (very) late gift to these lovelies (including greengableslover). Also, hope you all like it.You can also find me on tumblr as Dragonchristianlady.


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